


two weaknesses

by aac7



Series: friends being a headache [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A little bit of angst but more fluff, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aac7/pseuds/aac7
Summary: “Professor,” Ashe starts, “are you in a relationship with Felix?”Byleth blinks a few times, noticing the frost that was beginning to form on her lashes. That was the question she’d been asking herself lately. Were her and Felix involved? Were they a couple? Sure, they kissed and touched, but what did that mean? They’d never felt the need to discuss their relationship, never established any terms or put a label on it.“I don’t know,” she sighs heavily, because she doesn't.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Series: friends being a headache [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958674
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	two weaknesses

**Author's Note:**

> I know that winter doesn't exactly line up with the canon dates, but it's my fic, and I wanted confused Felileth over a wintry landscape.

Byleth Eisner, blessed Enlightened One, the commander of the Kingdom army, and the acting Archbishop of the Church of Seiros doesn’t have many weaknesses. In fact, she only has one.

The cold. 

Byleth wasn’t used to winter. Real, frigid _Faerghan_ winter.

Since they’d arrived in Fhirdiad, she’d swapped out her normal clothes for more appropriate wear. She exchanged her short sleeve shirt for a navy turtleneck, leaving no skin exposed for the cold to bite at. Warm furs and pelts lined her new cotton and wool blend jacket. She’d replaced her shorts and lace tights with solid black leggings, and rolled thigh high leg warmers over her boots. 

Yet it was like the outdoor air was made of broken glass, whistling past her ears and cutting through each layer of the fabric Byleth wore like it was nothing. The exposed skin of her cheeks tingles, and she was beginning to wonder why she’d agreed to leave the warmth of Castle Blaiddyd. 

The sky is shrouded in grey clouds, blocking out the rays of the afternoon sun. The crisp, cool air here is dry, and with each deep inhale, Byleth feels her airways tighten. She understands why her father hadn’t been keen on the cold. 

Byleth had never experienced snow like this before. Jeralt preferred to keep south during the cold months, and stayed far away from the northern territories of Faerghus. He’d once said he preferred the heat of Almyra’s summers over the chill of Faerghus’ winters.

The woods outside of Fhirdiad become thicker as they approach Fraldarius territory, branches and bushes lying under thick, heavy blankets of snow. Byleth can’t help but stare at them in awe. The fresh, powdered snow seems to glisten, twinkling under the pale light. The frost that clings to the thinner trees sparkles. Colours are brighter out here against the blank landscape. Sylvain’s hair, Felix’s cloak, Parthia on Ashe’s back. Even Ingrid’s blonde hair and glowing relic seem to replace the sun in the sky.

“Hey, you’re shaking more than a cocoa shaker in Annette’s hands over dessert. Are you already cold?”

Felix is _teasing_ her. As she turns her head to tell him off, she takes great care to ensure the scarf Mercedes had knitted for her didn’t slip down. From his mount beside her, Felix watches, and the amused smirk he wears on his face makes her want to punch him. Out of her former students, she was the least acclimated to cold weather, and he already knew how much it affected her. He just liked to push her buttons.

“I’m fine,” she sniffs. She could hardly feel the tip of her nose, but he didn’t have to know that. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” she confirms through gritted teeth.

He averts his gaze forward again, but she can still see the corner of his mouth curving upwards. “I believe you,” he says, unbelievingly.

Byleth tightens her gloved hands around the reins of her mount, willing her muscles to stop trembling. “I’m _not_ cold.”

“You know, for someone who bears the Crest of Flames, you get cold pretty easily,” he chuckles, earning himself a pretty heated glare. “Not too late to turn around and head back to Fhirdiad to sit in front of the fireplace.”

It seems that he wasn’t keen on forgetting that he’d watched her wrap herself in a fur rug and sit as close as possible to the fireplace in her room. Even after downing a steaming mug of Four Spice tea, it felt nearly impossible to warm up. “It’s too late. We’ve been riding for what? Three hours already?” 

“Forty-five minutes,” he snickers, and Byleth inwardly groans. Felix must be getting a kick out of this. 

“Get back up front,” she commands, words muffled as she buries her face in her scarf. “Ashe and I can handle the rear. You need to make sure Sylvain doesn’t get distracted and lead us to Sreng. He’s been staring up at Ingrid so much it’s a wonder he hasn’t hit his head on any branches.” While her, Ashe, Sylvain, and Felix were traversing the snow on horseback, Ingrid was up on her falicorn, scouting from the sky, and Sylvain couldn’t seem to keep eyes forward.

Felix laughs knowingly at that, and sends her one final infuriating smirk before he spurs his horse to a gallop in order to catch up with Sylvain.

She leads her horse to a trot in order to match Ashe’s pace. Like her, he has a scarf wrapped around his face, shielding his pink cheeks from the frigid air.

“Doing alright, Professor? Would you like my hat?”

Ashe is genuinely concerned, which she appreciates and would take over Felix’s teasing. “I appreciate your offer, but I’m managing. I just don’t know how they do it,” she says, gesturing to the three friends in front of them. “Especially Ingrid. I’d be frozen solid if I were up there with Orion.” 

Not only would she freeze to death, but Orion, her ebony pegasus, didn’t seem to take too well to the cold either. For missions like these, she preferred scouting from the skies, should she need to provide Ingrid with aerial support. Last she’d seen her pegasus though, he was tucked into the warmest corner of the stables and had been very reluctant to come out to stretch his wings. 

Ashe nods in agreement. “Well, Sylvain and Felix are from pretty far north, so Fhirdiad winters are pretty mild to them. As for Ingrid, she’s been fighting in the skies for five whole winters now. All she needs is an insulated coat and she’s good to go.”

That made sense. The three of them had grown up here, and had five years of winter combat under their belts, something Byleth sorely lacked. They’d fought in knee deep snow, on slippery terrain, all to defend their borders from Cornelia’s dukedom. “What about you? Castle Gaspard is pretty far south. The winter must not be nearly as bad as it is here.”

“I had some pretty nasty nights when I lived in the streets,” he shrugs and Byleth winces. “But being at the monastery for so long, I’d almost forgotten what Faerghus’ winters are like. It’s a shock to anyone’s system.”

“Seteth sure isn’t used to the cold. He’s dying to get back to Garreg Mach.” Due to the snowstorm warning, Dimitri had prohibited any extended military movements until he deemed it safe for their army to traverse Faerghus. Byleth thinks of Seteth, wrapped in cloaks and refusing to move from in front of the fire in the war council room. He’s probably doing that right now. She shares this with Ashe, and the thought makes them giggle. 

They aren’t the only ones laughing though. Up front, Sylvain’s laughter brings life to the quiet forest atmosphere, and he’s eventually joined by Felix. Byleth can see his shoulders shaking with laughter as Sylvain struggles to catch his breath.

“It’s nice to hear Felix laugh once in a while,” Ashe says as they watch him reach over to swat at Sylvain’s back. “It’s little moments like this that make the day a little brighter. Especially after...you know.”

_Especially after Rodrigue._ Though it still saddens her, Byleth can’t help but smile at the sound of Felix’s light bursts of laughter, and doesn’t at all mind that her scarf falls down around her neck when she does. “It is nice,” she agrees. “I was worried about him, heading to Fraldarius can't be easy.” 

Technically they were meeting his uncle at the border. Since liberating the capital and driving Imperial forces back, House Fraldarius had agreed to spare more troops to the main army. Their little team was sent to escort them to Fhirdiad. 

“I think it’s because you’re here, Professor,” Ashe says, a wide grin on his face. “For the last few days he’d been grumbling about going, saying that Dimitri should be retrieving the troops himself. Then he found out that you were coming and well…” He just his chin towards where Felix and Sylvain are bickering. “He’s less...spiky when you’re around.”

Byleth is amused by his word choice, but nevertheless finds it apt. She remembers all too well the times he would greet her for tea with a brusque ‘why am I here?’ and how that had transformed into the shy smile that greeted her each time he would knock at her door, tea leaves in hand. “Well we have been…closer lately,” she admits quietly. 

“Yeah?”

“He’s different than he was in the academy. He’s less defensive, more open. We’re good friends.”

Ashe raises a brow. “Just friends?”

“Just friends,” she nods, staring hard at the teal cloak in front of her. _Just friends._ The words don’t roll off her tongue as easily as she would have liked, and an odd feeling of displeasure sinks through her stomach like a rock through water. 

“Hm,” Ashe hums thoughtfully with a strange look Byleth can’t decipher. “Tell me, when you think about Felix, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

“Warm,” Byleth says, surprised by how quickly her response came. “Like fire, or...like a nice cup of tea.” It’s an unusual word to describe Felix Hugo Fraldarius, but it’s true. Nights of laying together had proved how anatomically correct she was. Felix’s blood burned hot, and laying next to him warmed her far better than any fireplace could. 

But the way he made her feel...it was like taking the first sip of freshly brewed tea. A warmth that seeped through her every limb. A warmth that emanated from his touch, or flooded her cheeks whenever they made eye contact, or said his name. A warmth that coiled in her stomach each time he brought her to the edge. Again and again and again…

Yes, Felix was warm.

“Professor,” Ashe starts, “are you in a relationship with Felix?”

Byleth jerks, and her horse startles with a whinny when she accidentally tugs on the reins. “Sorry, sorry,” she soothes, gently nudging her forward again. “I didn’t expect that question,” she admits to Ashe. 

“I apologize if it was too forward of me to ask,” he blushes. “I was just curious— a lot of us are, actually. We thought you and Felix were...involved.”

Byleth blinks a few times, noticing the frost that was beginning to form on her lashes. That was the question she’d been asking herself lately. Were her and Felix involved? Were they a couple? Sure, they kissed and touched and fucked, but _what did that mean?_ They’d never felt the need to discuss their relationship, never established any terms or put a label on it. 

“I don’t know,” she sighs heavily, because she doesn't. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about him or how he feels about me. I don’t even know what a real relationship is supposed to look like. Do we kiss in public? Do we hold hands and go on dates?” Byleth is well aware that she’s rambling now, listing off things she’d read in romantic novels she’d procured from Seteth’s not-so-secret stash of banned books. 

“Don’t worry yourself over all of that. Courting is...a formality. When it comes to love… you just have to ask yourself one thing. When you look to your future, do you see him there with you?”

A future with Felix? Life after the war wasn’t something Byleth had given herself the luxury of imagining. 

“It’s okay not to know right now,” Ashe says hurriedly. “But when you do figure it out...I promise it’ll be worth it,” he says with all the confidence only a man in love could have. She finds her gaze wandering back to the front, catching on that teal cloak that she loves to wrap herself in, and the midnight hair that she adores running her fingers through. 

“So…” Byleth grins, gaze unwavering, even as she speaks to Ashe, “when the war is over, can we expect an invitation to a destination wedding in Brigid?”

He doesn’t get to answer, because a few feet before them, Ingrid swoops down, an alarmed look on her face. The four of them immediately pull their mounts to a stop. 

“Ingrid?” Byleth asks, frowning. “Did you see something?” 

She takes a deep breath, her breath visible in the frigid air. “You know how Margrave Gautier is working to purge the territories of Imperial troops?” Everyone gives a curt nod. “Well I just saw some camped up ahead. I estimate about twenty of them.”

“Shit,” Felix swears. “I thought the route to Fraldarius was clear.” 

“We could turn around and get back-up,” Sylvain suggests worriedly. 

“No,” Byleth says, sliding off her horse. “We can’t risk letting them go and regrouping with Edelgard’s army. Plus, they might ambush us on our way back anyways.” 

“She’s right,” Felix nods, feet hitting the ground next to her. He unsheathes the Sword of Moralta, hefting it in his palm a few times before tightening his grip around it. “We need to take care of them now, and I like our odds. Three relics and two sacred weapons against a group of Imperial losers. We just need some solid tactics.”

They all turn to Byleth. 

“Snow won’t be an issue for you?” Felix asks, and Byleth shakes her head. The snow is ankle deep, and already seeping through her boots and leggings. 

“I’ll be fine,” she dismisses. She’d fought through worse discomforts. “Ingrid, which way?” 

She points Luin north, and sees the familiar stalk of campfire smoke not far from where they’d stopped. Her, Ashe, and Felix tie their mounts to a nearby tree, and they all carefully creep forward toward smoke. “Okay,” Byleth whispers as they crouch behind a snowbank. She slings her bow off her back, grabbing an arrow out of her quiver. “Ashe and I will pick a few of them off first. When they start to panic, Felix and Sylvain, that’s when you go in. I’ll follow. Look for any archers and clear them to save Ingrid some trouble. Ashe, I want you to stay on the outskirts and help anyone who looks like they’re in trouble. On my signal,” Ashe nocks an arrow, while Felix and Sylvain take cover in the nearby trees as they close in on the soldiers. 

Byleth readies her own arrow and takes aim at a soldier, drawing a steady breath before nodding at Ashe. They let their arrows fly in unison, striking two targets, who drop face first into the snow. There’s a few shouts of panic as they realize they’re under attack, and Byleth and Ashe both let two more arrows fly as they scramble for weapons. Byleth takes advantage of their confusion and vaults over the snowbank, strapping her bow back onto her back as she tugs her sword off her belt. 

She hears the sound of beating wings, meaning Ingrid has entered the fray, and hears the neighing of Hugo, Sylvain’s horse. There’s metal clashing with metal behind her, meaning Felix has joined the fight. Her, Sylvain, and Felix form a small triangle, and Byleth frees her sword, using it’s whip form to slice through two more enemies. Ashe has moved in closer, and is efficiently picking off opponents with ease. It’s clear they weren’t elite soldiers, but this was still a twenty to five fight. 

Byleth notices one soldier break away from the fight, staggering off. She stabs her sword into the packed snow, grabbing her bow and yanking an arrow out of her quiver. She curses as she fumbles with the arrow, fighting through the clumsy numbness of her fingers to nock it, but by the time she takes aim, the target has gained too much ground. She looks back, noting that her former students are already finishing off the rest of the small convoy with ease. 

So she throws down her bow, taking off after the stray soldier. “Byleth, stop!” Felix calls after her.

She doesn’t stop. “Don’t let any of them get away!” she shouts back instead. The snow slows her a bit, but she manages to catch her target in a small clearing, sending a blast of faith magic ahead of her to take him out. She approaches slowly, still cautious. She needs to make sure he’s dead, and she didn’t accidentally heal him. When she was frantic, she could get her spells mixed up, silly as it sounds. 

She kneels down, checking the man’s pulse. There is none. Satisfied, she breathes a sigh of relief, getting back up onto her feet when she stops. Felix, Ashe, and Sylvain stand a distance away, yelling at her. 

“Don’t move!” Felix yells, his voice thick with concern, amber eyes wide. Byleth doesn’t understand until she takes a step forward, and hears an ominous crack beneath her boot. 

A lake. She’d chased this man onto a frozen lake. 

What rotten luck she had. 

“Professor!” Sylvain shouts, “Get down on your stomach— slowly! Ingrid will come to you!” 

Byleth kneels as slowly as possible, fear surging through her as she hears a series of small cracks beneath her. Ingrid is above her in a few seconds, and Byleth shifts carefully, reaching upwards. Her fingers brush Ingrid’s as the ice gives out with a sickening groan, and she plummets into the water.

The lake swallows her whole, and she’s shrouded in nothing but darkness and floating chunks of ice. It’s so cold that she screams in shock, inhaling a mouthful of ice water as she panics. She’s flailing her arms and legs trying to get to the surface, but she can’t even tell which way is up. She’s cold, so cold. So cold. Her body is quickly stiffening, and after what seem to be the longest seconds of her life, she forces her eyes open and looks for her entry point. 

She sees the distorted light, and thinks she hears shouting as she forces her body upwards, and her head finally breaks the surface of the frigid lake water.

Her hair sticks to her face as she gasps, inhaling deeply and reaching for the hand that she sees through the frosty strands of her hair. She’s roughly yanked from the water, and Ingrid flies her over to the edge of the lake. With every second that passes, she feels the bite of the cold suck away every last bit of warmth inside of her, coughing and gasping for air as her airways begin to tighten.

Her and Ingrid stumble off her falicorn, but Felix catches her before she hits the ground. Her teeth are chattering so hard that she can barely make out what they’re saying. Felix rips her cloak off, replacing it with his own. He tears her soaked gloves off, replacing them with his brown ones. She doesn’t feel any changes in warmth, even as Ashe places his hat over her head and Sylvain wraps her in his large coat. 

Ingrid says something she can’t hear as her eyes begin to flutter shut, and she can’t tell if it’s her shivering or Felix shaking her that makes her open them again. His arms wrap around her as she’s lifted, but she’s already drifting out of consciousness. Her body feels like a block of ice, her every limb somehow numb but stinging from the cold. Felix is yelling, but it’s muffled and she can’t understand. 

_“Stupid,”_ she somehow makes out as her vision begins to fade. _“You’re so stupid.”_

  
  


__________

  
  


The first thing Byleth registers as she swims back into consciousness is the sound of a fire.

She feels weighed down, and when she opens her eyes, she sees that she’s covered in at least five thick quilts. She looks around, her eyes still feeling heavy as she surveys her surroundings. 

She’s in Castle Blaiddyd’s infirmary. Her sword and bow sit against a nearby wall, and her clothes are freshly laundered, laying on a nearby chair. 

A cough catches her attention, and she sees Felix sitting by the fireplace quietly staring at the hearth, elbows resting on his knees. 

“Felix?” She croaks, and his head whips around, eyes widening when he sees that she’s awake. She tries to push herself up, but Felix is across the room in seconds, hands grasping her shoulders firmly 

“Lay back down,” he says strictly. “You need to rest.” 

“The troops—” she starts, pushing against him and sitting up anyways. Felix realizes that he won’t be winning, and rolls his eyes, adjusting the pillows behind her so she can sit back. 

“Shut up,” he interrupts gruffly once she’s settled. “You need to rest,” he repeats, pulling the blankets back up to her chin. 

“But I need to—”

“Stop it!” He yells, the words sounding like they’ve been ripped from his throat, and making her flinch. She’s never heard him raise his voice before. Not to her, not to anyone. “Just— just stop it.” His hands are curled into tight fists, clutched so tightly that his knuckles are white. “You almost _died,_ Byleth.” 

“I didn’t though,” she points out slowly. “And it wouldn’t be the first time. Now, I just need to know if—” 

“Why are you all like this?” He asks with a frustrated sigh, dropping himself into the chair by her bed. “Why am I surrounded by self-sacrificing idiots?” She can’t tell if it’s a rhetorical question or one he expects an answer to.

“Felix.”

“It’s like you all rush so eagerly towards death. First Glenn, then my old man. Ingrid would risk life and limb for this godforsaken war. Sylvain risks his life for me like— like a fool. And you— this is the _second_ time I’ve had to watch you run towards your death and disappear right before my eyes.” Byleth doesnt think he realizes that he’s shouting, his glare burning holes into her skull. 

“Felix, I’m okay now—”

“You almost weren’t!” He shouts exasperatedly. “Do you know what it was like, bringing you back to the castle half-frozen to death? Mercedes thought you were going to die.”

Guilt weighs heavy on her chest. “Felix...”

“Did you know that you don’t have a heartbeat? You have a pulse, but your heart doesn’t beat. How is that even possible?” He questions, pacing around the room. “Do you know how hard it is to try and save someone who doesn’t have a heartbeat?”

Byleth closes her eyes, wishing she had an answer. “I don’t. I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching for him.

“I don’t want your apology,” he spits, crossing his arms over his chest. “I want you to stop being so stupid out there so that this doesn’t happen again.” 

“I will,” she promises. “I should have been more careful,” she admits truthfully. “It was reckless. I didn’t know enough about terrain to just take off like that. I’ll be more careful next time.”

He seems satisfied with her answer, and he gives her a curt nod. “Good. I can’t lose anybody else that I love.” 

The statement gives her pause, and she wonders if her ears are working properly. Did he just…

Judging by the way he blushes and turns away, he definitely did. “Felix, did you just say—”

“No,” he grounds out far too quickly.

A spark of familiar heat flashes within her chest, flickering like the fire in front of her as the corners of her mouth twitch. “You said that—”

“No, I didn’t,” he denies, but his cheeks are crimson now, and it isn’t from the heat of the fire. “Just shut up and drink your tea,” he snaps, pointing at a tray she didn’t notice before, the familiar scent of pine needles flooding her senses.

She obliges, but as she reaches over and lifts the cup, it rattles against the tray as her hand trembles, muscles still weak from disuse. How long had she been asleep?

“Pathetic,” Felix mutters, taking the cup and raising it to her lips himself. “Drink. You haven’t eaten in almost an entire day.” He carefully tips the cup and she obediently drinks, her eyes not leaving his. He’s working hard to not make eye contact with her, his eyes settling over her lips or her nose or her cheeks, but never her eyes. 

Byleth pulls away when the cup is half drained, and Felix wipes the corner of her mouth with a nearby handkerchief. “I’m not going to leave you again,” she assures him as she feels the backs of his fingers brush her bottom lip. 

He pauses and lowers his hand, gripping the handkerchief in his fist. “I know, but you came really close. The hypothermia nearly killed you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“...Sorry.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” He scoffs, rising from the side of her bed. “I’m going to go get Mercedes and tell the others you’re okay. You really had us worried there for a second. Annette was crying a lot.”

“Felix, wait!” She calls out, reaching for him again. “I’m still cold, can you—” She pats the space beside her, shooting him her best pleading look as he looks between her and the door. 

“Fine,” he grumbles, moving back towards her. He shrugs off his cloak and kicks his boots off before settling in beside her. Byleth grins triumphantly as she tucks herself into his chest, feeling his arms envelope her in warmth. He’s always been her personal wood stove. “You’re always so cold.”

“I think it has to do with my heart,” she says quietly. “I’ve been like this since I was born. My father...he thought that Rhea had something to do with it.”

He hums thoughtfully, and she feels his arms tighten around her. “Once the war is over, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

When the war is over, they’ll be together. 

“Felix,” she whispers softly. “I love you too, you know.”

She feels him smile as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I know, Byleth.”

There's that familiar warmth again, emanating from the spot her un-beating heart resides. It's spreading across her body with a slow but steady flow, relaxing her limbs and causing the blood to rush into her cheeks. She's never felt so warm in her life.

It turns out that Byleth Eisner, the blessed Enlightened One, commander of the Kingdom army, and acting Archbishop of the Church of Seiros has not one, but _two_ weaknesses. 

One is the cold.

The other is the way she feels when Felix says her name.

**Author's Note:**

> Sylvain and Ingrid wonder why Byleth gets kisses and hugs while they just get yelled at.


End file.
